


stay by my side, you're my loyal dog

by redpaint



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Unromantic, that damn shock collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpaint/pseuds/redpaint
Summary: “I dunno Dream, you’ve been naughty. You’ve been a bad dog,” George says. He hates the annoyance that’s bleeding into his voice. If he can hear it that means Dream can hear it too and it means that people are going to give him shit about it on Twitter.“Aw, come on. You can never stay mad at dogs, they just don’t know what they’re doing.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	stay by my side, you're my loyal dog

**Author's Note:**

> [david byrne voice] and you may ask yourself, "well... how did I get here?"
> 
> huge props to [redacted] for going down the cringe slide with me and for mining (haha) the weirder and more uncomfortable depths of DNF

George wakes up to messages from Dream, just like he does most days. Reading them is usually his first step to getting up, but today George wishes he'd done anything else.

_ > alright so _  
_ > i just had an idea _  
_ > you still have that shock collar we modded, right? _

George turns his face into the pillow and groans.

⁂

“It’s a dog collar. It’s meant for dogs,” George says. He can’t stop laughing to himself, a combination of nerves and the torrent of hype in chat. Streams are always more chaotic when they're with Dream, but this one is even more rowdy than usual.

Dream _tsk_ s, but George can hear that he’s laughing a little too. “‘s not the point, George. You need to learn about responsible pet ownership.”

“Dream, I _have_ a _dog._ ”

“Yes, bark bark bark. I am man’s best friend.”

George laughs. “You’re _my_ best friend.”

“Exactly. Now don’t let me take any damage or you’ll get shocked.”

It starts easy enough. Dream trots alongside him and keeps watch as they gather basic materials. The process is intuitive at this point — it means that George can spend more brain power feeling the cold metal prongs of the shock collar digging into his bicep. At least they stay mercifully inert, more uncomfortable than painful.

As they get further down into a sprawling cave, George feels himself getting even more alert. Dream has gone quiet, which is never a good sign. George checks to make sure Dream is standing next to him as he frantically mines iron. “ _Don’t_ run off, I mean it.”

“Why would I do that?” Dream asks, entirely innocent, as he takes off running. George watches him disappear further into the cave.

“Dream!” George turns to run after him, but it’s too late. “God _fucking_ damn— Dream!” The buzzing comes a millisecond before the pain and the anticipation just makes it that much worse. It’s a cacophony of buzzing, Dog Dream whining at he takes damage, and George spitting curses with every shock. Still, George runs down into the cave, because if Dream dies, then game over.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Of course Dream wants George to run after him, and of course he runs right back out, past George and up the little dirt staircase George had built for him at the mouth of the cave. He's laughing maniacally, running in circles on the grass when George follows him out.

“Don’t _do_ that, _ow,_ ” George says. “I’m taking it off, I’m taking it off.” He unclips the collar and rubs at the smarting spot on his arm. Dream is practically snorting with laughter now, jumping over George’s head as he begs for food.

“Noooo, you can’t do that George. That’s cheating, come on.”

“You’re trying to kill me Dream, I swear.”

“I’m just being a good guard dog. Come on, put it back on. I promise I’ll be good.” He even whines like a dog. Encouragement pours in from the chat at breakneck speed.

George looks sidelong at the collar. It looks so harmless just sitting there on the desk. “Fine. If you _promise._ ”

“Yes! Game on.” Dream crows, jumping a little to show his excitement. It’s so stupid, how a little jumping dog can be so persuasive.

Against his better judgment, George clips the collar back into place around his arm. “Alright, all set.”

“Now heal me, George, heal me!”

“I dunno Dream, you’ve been naughty. You’ve been a bad dog,” George says. He hates the annoyance that’s bleeding into his voice. If he can hear it that means Dream can hear it too and it means that people are going to give him shit about it on Twitter.

“Aw, come on. You can never stay mad at dogs, they just don’t know what they’re doing.”

“You’re not —”

“And it’s your job to protect me. Now heal me!”

There’s no way that Dream won’t run headlong into the next stupid bee he sees. It makes George want to hold back on food, just to teach him a lesson — like how you teach a dog. He must hesitate a little too long, because he spots a DM from Dream in the other monitor.

_> wtf come on dude_  
_> were losing viewers just sitting here_

“Okay, okay, here, have these.” George relents. He tosses a few steaks Dream’s way to get him back up to full health and watches the hearts bloom around Dream’s little pixelated dog head. “That enough?”

Dream runs in a circle around him. “Perfect. Good as new. Now let’s go beat Minecraft.”

⁂

A lot of the things that George has are just as much Dream’s as they are his. There’s the computer, first of all — thousands of dollars in top-of-the-line parts. There’s the little pink elephant that George sometimes looks at when Dream is talking, just something to give shape to his voice. There’s the variety of merch that Dream had shipped him so he can wear it on stream, whatever the season. There’s the shock collar they designed and programmed together. And now there’s this.

George examines the red spots on his arm in the mirror. It doesn’t have any of the usual hallmarks of an injury, no scabs or bruises, but it’s still sore, and every so often George twitches in anticipation of a shock, even though one isn’t coming. He tossed the shock collar in the back of one of his desk drawers, never to be used again. Of course, that’s what he’d thought the first time.

The spots do look pretty gnarly but they’ll fade quickly. He snaps a picture and sends it to Dream.

_lmao it still hurts :( <_

George watches for the three typing dots. Luckily, Dream is quick to respond.

_> woah, that sucks._  
_> you really let it shock you all those times?_

George frowns at his phone.

_yeah of course <_  
_that was the game <_  
_SOMEONE did a bad job avoiding taking damage <_

There’s a longer pause this time. George rolls down the sleeve of his shirt and sits back down on the bed. It’s getting dark out and he’s paying for the nights he’s been staying up late on calls with Dream. A few more days of it and he might as well be on Eastern time. Unless Dream calls him first, he’ll probably try and get to bed early tonight. Finally, his phone buzzes again.

_> oh, i’m just saying no one would have known if you turned it off_  
_> i sort of figured you did, when you took it off and put it back on_  
_> i thought it would make a better video if i made you yell a little more lol_

Dream is always so matter-of-fact. It’s not anything he does on purpose, it’s just how he talks, but it still makes George feel a little slow on the uptake. He finds himself lying about little things, just to keep up.

_lol yeah i thought about it <_  
_wanted to keep it real though <_  
_anything for the Views am i right <_

Dream heart reacts to the final message. 

_> i swear i wouldnt have run into those mobs if i thought it was on_  
_> don’t be mad at me_

George likes the messages and plugs in his phone to charge. Reaching over for the charger makes him realize he’s gone tense all over. His jaw is tight, but relaxing it just makes the muscle twitch. He gets like this when he’s overtired, and it takes ages to shake off.

He brushes his teeth and then takes another look at the spots while he’s still in front of the vanity. They look like they could be two fresh fingerprint bruises, like someone grabbed his arm too hard. He puts one finger on each spot and presses down. He can’t even meet his own eyes in the mirror. He spits the toothpaste into the sink. Then he gets in bed and jerks off under the cold sheets.

It doesn’t take long. When he’s done — when he’s exhausted and his nerve endings are sparking like a downed power line — he checks his phone for messages from Dream. _No new unreads._ His jaw is tight again, no afterglow.

The digital clock on his nightstand gives off a weird eerie light — it doesn’t usually bother him, but tonight it seems unbearably bright. George grabs a t-shirt from the floor to clean off his sticky hands, then he tosses it over the clock. When finally he rolls over to try and sleep, the pressure on his sore arm keeps him awake.

**Author's Note:**

> title from that dream-is-a-dog video. this started as a joke but it wormed its way inside my brain and now it's definitely not a joke.


End file.
